


Where are your gods now?

by snoozingkitten



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), Thor - Fandom
Genre: Community: xover_exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingkitten/pseuds/snoozingkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The games Thor and Loki play last decades and span entire realms. A hunter and the God of Thunder walk into a bar looking for a punchline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where are your gods now?

**Author's Note:**

> Holla to my beta Track_04, because she is the best, seriously I would have never had the confidence to pull this off without her. 
> 
> Set early Supernatural, season 1-ish, before everything went crazy, and pre-Thor, AU in the fact that Loki and Thor have visited Midgard periodically previous to the film. 
> 
> Written for fanboi214 @ Xover_exchange!

The bar was small, crowded, and rowdy. Dean felt right at home, these were his kind of people. Sam was pulled into a corner with a new journal writing in his anal-retentive, perfectly even script, hunched over it like some sort of huge bird. He’d taken one look at the journal that Dean was keeping and pulled the mother of all bitch-faces before beginning his own. Well _sorry Princess_. 

Dean was prowling around the bar. They were in this neck of the woods because there were reports of odd patterns appearing on the ground, circles of sigils. Nothing that any of their research could link to a certain kind of big bad, just a general feel of ‘something’s not right in the neighbourhood’. It had been far too long since their last lead and Dean was getting a little antsy for action. 

Not that he would ever wish someone to be viciously ripped apart by a werewolf, but sometimes a guy just wanted to punch something in the face. The weather matched his mood, sky fat with thick dark clouds just waiting for the first flash of lightning to rip the whole thing open. 

It was beginning to look like a fight or fuck kind of night. _Keep your head down; don’t get into any unneeded trouble._ Sometimes he couldn’t help but break the old rules a little. Given that the women here were of a certain breed, Dean wasn’t going to bet on his chances there. A fight was almost a common occurrence in holes in the wall like these. Would stand out in people’s memories only as ‘that stranger that rolled into town’. 

There was a 50/50 chance that Sam would back him up or leave his ass there. 

Not bad odds really. 

One of the pool tables emptied and Dean made a bee-line for it. He’d lined up a few shots. One of the legs was slightly wonky, giving it a faint slant when he rested his weight on it. Potentially useful. He was lining up a third shot and debating if he should throw it or not, lure some schmuck in for a little hustling, when a big beautiful blond walked up. 

He was taller and broader than Sam, Dean didn’t even know they made men that big. He looked solid all the way through, like he was more for function than show, the way roid-heads always managed to miss. He wasn’t just flash at all. Dean wasn’t small, well over six feet himself, but he felt oddly dwarfed next to him-- wasn’t that just a punch in the teeth? 

He also seemed oddly familiar, even if he wasn’t the kind of guy you’d ever miss. Not only was he seriously built, but he was filthy gorgeous. A strong face, natural blond with just enough scruff to look wild. He wore ratty jeans and a sinfully tight t-shirt. 

Dean caught his eye and smiled. There was more than one way to start a fight in a place like this. The blonde bear ambled over, his movements loose and graceful, the unmistakeable gait of a fighter. Oh, this was such a bad idea, he was going to get his face smashed in. Sometimes you just needed to drive at bad ideas, play chicken with things with teeth. 

“Greetings,” Blond spoke, his voice a deep resonance that carried over the juke box hooked up to the sound system easily. 

“Hey,” Dean replied, wasn’t subtle about the slow once over. They were going to tear this place down. Only the other man didn’t look offended; in fact he just kind of smirked, as if this was his due. That attitude put his teeth on edge, just his type. 

“Wanna play?” He inclined the stick slight and the other man looked at it, over the table and rolled his shoulders. 

“What is it that we play?”

“Pool, billiards if you’re being all fancy.” Dean tipped the stick at him like a sword challenge and of all things this got him a brilliant grin. 

“Explain.” 

“You’re a weird one.” Dean pulled a face. Still, he lined up an easy shot. A sweet little tap against the cue ball that sent the striped five careening off the wall and into the corner pocket, ending with the cue lined up to take out the next stripe on a long bank, but an inexperienced player probably wouldn’t notice that. “Balls go in the hole.” 

“I understand.” 

He took the stick from Dean. Mimicked his lean over the table, and for a moment Dean was certain he had just been played because the form was exactly the same as his own. A perfect angle of his elbow drawn back, thick biceps pulling the motion until it was almost pornographic. 

_Thwack._

The cue ball went sailing over the end of the table, jumping and hitting the floor with a solid thud and careening madly across the floor. Dean was surprised that it didn’t crack. A few people looked up-- most were too used to weird shit to bother. 

“This is indeed more difficult than it looks,” he rumbled. 

Dean laughed, amused despite himself.

“You seem familiar, do I know you?” Dean asked.

“I am not from around here,” he replied. 

“No shit.” He laughed. “Name’s Dean.” He stuck his hand out. The stranger had huge hands, curling them around Dean’s hand, firm and oddly calloused. He must work with them a lot. 

“Thor.” 

“Really?” Dean arched an eyebrow. You could see all the ghosts and vampires on the east coast but people would always be the weirdest. No seriously, there were people who ran around with tinfoil hats. 

He laughed, a low, wicked, amused sound. “Indeed mortal.” 

Well, _whatever floated your boat._ At least he looked the part. Dean almost believed he was the god of thunder. Only he knew that if he _was_ the god of thunder he’d probably be killing people for blood sacrifices or something, and him and Sammy would be hunting him. Things would get messy. Not even sexy-fun messy, bloody-gore-fun messy. Salt and Burn the fuckers kind of messy. 

“Fine, you’re Thor, awesome.” He set the cue ball down on the felt again. 

Thor learned fast, like scarily fast. Hindered only by the fact that he could seem to get the gentle taps, it was like watching Happy Gilmore trying to play golf at the beginning, the cue ball bouncing and hitting so hard that it bounced off the edge of the wall and smacked back into the cue ball both of them missing the pocket. 

There was no question of who would win; Dean had been doing this since he needed to pull a stool over to the table to help him line up his shots, but Thor was surprisingly good once he figured out the rules, lining up shots to avoid needing to tap them in. Dean was impressed despite himself. 

The power flickered as thunder boomed loudly over head. Thor paused and looked up, a small smile curling at his lips. 

“Want to get out of here?” Dean asked, eyes bright. Sam was gone from his corner—Dean had just been waiting for him to leave. Didn’t matter how attractive his partner was, a small slice of his attention was always on Sam, reptilian instinct drilled into him from all their years together as children. With Sam safely tucked away let the fun begin. 

“The mead is weak anyways,” Thor agreed. 

It was pouring outside. The clouds opening up and god pissing down rain. Thor’s shaggy hair was quickly soaked against his scalp. Dean went to hurry towards the motel jogging towards the shelter, only to be caught, one huge hand curling around his wrist. 

Thor’s kisses were startlingly electric, wet warm mouth making his fingers and toes tingle, scalp prickling as the warm rain slid down the close-sheared hairs at the back of his neck. They were getting soaked and kissing in the rain like a chick-flick, but Thor kissed filthy, tongue fucking into Dean’s mouth like it was his right. As if there was ever a chance that Dean didn’t want this. Granted, he did, but there was something about the casual arrogance that pushed all his buttons. 

Dean grabbed at his hair, and pulled him down a little, making the kiss deeper, wetter, licking rainwater from Thor’s lips and tasting the faint tang of chemicals. He made this rumbling sound, like a purr that threatened to rattle Dean’s very bones. 

He caught his breath, grinning against Thor’s mouth. “That’s more like it.” His lips buzzed, sensitive already. 

He felt a little bad about getting a second room, but there was awkward and there was _awkward_ , and there were some lines you just didn’t cross. Besides, Thor was standing outside, head tipped back and impressively back-lit by the yellow streetlamps like something out of a film and Dean wanted to climb all over him. 

Key clutched in one hand, and a scathingly sarcastic remark for the half-bored, mostly-judging look from the ancient man behind the counter. _Fuck you_ , I am about to get spectacularly laid. 

Thor seemed to find his eagerness amusing, that same little superior smirk that made Dean want to bite him. So he did, biting at his bottom lip and feeling the damp drag of Thor’s beard against his chin. He let out a manly squeak when Thor lifted him, barely seeming put out by lifting him off his feet so he could grind what felt like a monster of a cock against his stomach. 

“Holy shit,” Dean swore, pushing his tongue into Thor’s mouth. He would not admit under pain of death that there was something about being tossed around like a doll that was thrilling. 

“Did you procure us lodgings?” 

“Hell yes.” Dean wiggled out of his grip, using that as an excuse to test the strength in Thor’s arms. There wasn’t much give at all, like he used those guns rather than just having them just for show. 

They stumbled through room number 6, Dean leading them with single-minded purpose towards the king-size bed in the middle of the room. It was the kind of motel where the television and the radio were bolted to the floor, and everything smelled just a little of cigarettes and mothballs. Outside the storm raged, whipping itself into a frenzy. The lightning gave the room a strange strobe light effect until he hit the bedside lamp. When he was kissing Thor and huge hands were palming his ass he swore he could feel the thunder thrum in his blood. 

He itched to answer it, pushing harder, rutting against Thor’s solid hip as they spilled into the bed, soaked all the way through and kissing messily, lips caught between the hard pinch of teeth, a spark of pain that just served to make everything feel that much sharper. 

Dean shoved up that ridiculous t-shirt, damp material plastered to Thor’s chest, slipping his hands under it to touch his stomach. He must do hundreds of crunches a day for definition like that. The definition popped under his hands as Thor levered himself up a little without moving his hands from Dean’s ass to pull him into another filthy kiss. There was just enough space between them to reach back and pull his own shirt off. 

Dean was fit, came with the territory, but it was hard to not feel a little small in comparison.

“You are a warrior,” Thor rumbled sounded clearly pleased by what he found, tracing his fingers over scars. The long on one his side where a ghost of a child had made the glass from a broken window swirl around and got a lucky shot in while Dean was distracted. Instead of looking put off by them Thor seemed almost reverent as he touched the scars. 

“Warrior huh?” Dean mused. He liked that. That sounded _bad ass_. 

He shifted over so he was straddling Thor’s thighs, jeans pinching into his hips from the splay of his legs, but this way he could rock against that firm stomach and feel the hot rise of Thor’s dick against his ass. 

Rain pelted loudly against the windows. Thor ignored the way his shirt was pulled up to his armpits, cupping the back of Dean’s head to pull him down into another kiss while he used his other hand to tug at the button to his jeans. It gave without too much trouble and he grunted against Thor’s mouth as he pushed his huge hand inside. 

“Yeah.” Dean panted, rolling his hips against the heat of his hand, intoxicating after the cooling dampness of his jeans. Even against the material of his briefs that felt amazing warm, tight and perfect. He bit at Thor’s jaw, letting his beard scrape against kiss-bruised lips for the sharp bite of sensation. “Christ, you’re like porn,” Dean breathed, amazed. Thor watched him, blue eyes eerily bright in the relative dimness of the room, wet hair sticking to the sides of his face and making him look wild. 

If he knew he was going to get laid Dean would have worn better briefs. A little ratty from overuse, but Thor didn’t seem to care much, wrestling with damp denim to try and get them out of the way. Dean distracted him with another wet kiss, Thor sucking his tongue into his mouth and sending a shiver all the way down his spine that curled electric in his balls. 

He needed to be not wearing his pants, five minutes ago. 

“Hold up, I think we’ve moved onto the naked phase,” Dean breathed, licking at his lips and watching the way Thor watched the movement as if he couldn’t look away.

Thor’s hands never left him, like he couldn’t be bothered to let go, warm hands curling around his hips and shoulders running down his flank and the outside of his thigh as Dean kicked off his jeans. Dean didn’t really want to move very far away, the two of them wiggling on the bed to shove off wet clothes even if the closeness was more a hindrance than a help. Thor, bless him, did not seem to find it weird when Dean fished a condom and a sample pack of lube from the detritus of gum wrappers in his pockets. Despite the size of the bed they almost filled it. It was possible that Dean had never been more turned on in his entire life, the Godzilla of all erections. 

Thor got one hand wrapped around him and Dean didn’t care that he was still wearing socks because his hands were so big and perfect. Dean groaned low in his throat, spreading his thighs wider so he could fuck into the curve of Thor’s palm. 

“Just like that.” Dean panted; watching at Thor tipped his head back, begging for a kiss. He _was_ like porn, big in all the right ways, from the width of his shoulders to the solidness of his thighs. Gorgeous, thick, uncut cock rising out of his dark pubic hair. It could have its own porn, nothing but close ups of Thor stroking himself off and people everywhere would watch it, desperate. 

Fed up with waiting, Thor used his free hand to haul Dean down for a kiss, holding him in place as he did so. Dean whined and bucked helplessly against his hand, cock jerking at the sheer ridiculous hotness of everything. There was that electric tingle again, like static crawling all over his skin, and things were going to get embarrassing for him if he didn’t find a way to slow down. 

It was a lot like driving straight at a wall and knowing it was coming, but he was going so fast it was too hard to stop. His hips jerked, quick little circles into the circle of Thor’s fingers. Not quick slick enough, but the gritty drag was just what he needed. 

“If you don’t stop that this show is going to be over,” Dean said between gritted teeth, embarrassed to admit it out loud.

“Worry not.” Thor chuckled, running his hand down Dean’s back and curling warmly around his hip. 

“Easy for you to say.” 

Only Thor’s hand was warm and perfect, and with a hand on the back of his hip there wasn’t much Dean could do but ride it. Panting against one of Thor’s shoulders as he groaned and writhed, getting himself off on his hand. 

This way Dean could hear the loud thump of Thor’s heart and feel the heat that rose off of his skin, bright and hot. So hot it was making Dean sweat. Couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop. Doing 120 down the highway to Def Leopard. Thor wasn’t helping, murmuring against his ear in that deep voice and Dean had no idea what he was saying, just that it vibrated against his skin and settled into his blood. 

He came with a low pained sound, ripped right out of him from the tips of his toes and the roots of his hair. He mouthed wetly at Thor’s shoulder, shaking and jerking, letting his own come slick the way as he finished all over Thor’s abs. His orgasm drew out sweet and tight, too long since the last time he had enough privacy. 

Thor held him up when Dean went limp, shoulders and arms flexing under Dean’s face. 

He was going to offer the guy a blowjob, because that was one mouth-waterer of a dick. Only Thor seemed to have some sort of battle plan and Dean was too come-stupid to protest as he was man-handled onto his back. 

He did protest, a low groan of almost-pain as Thor sucked his dick into his mouth. God he was all wet and sloppy and Thor was groaning like this was exactly what he wanted. It should have been painful; he was still half-hard and sensitive, but Thor’s beard was scraping the insides of his thighs and it was distracting. There was no way he was getting it up again so soon, but where was the harm in stopping him from trying? Sweet suction made everything feel a little liquid around the edges. 

“Wishful thinking,” Dean groaned at the roof. As much as he wanted to make the bed rock with the satisfying sounds of all-night fucking that was so common in these kinds of hovels there was just _no way_. 

Only there was a buzzing along his skin, twisting and making him gasp, heels digging into the bed as he jerked up against Thor’s mouth. 

“ _Witchcraft_ ,” Dean hissed, trying not to choke to death on his own tongue as his whole body pulsed. It had to be some kind of sex mojo because he hadn’t gotten hard again so soon since he was a teenager. It almost hurt, the sensation was so intense. “How are you even doing that?” Dean whined, twisting in the sheets, clutching at Thor’s hair with his free hand. 

Thor laughed, scraping his chin across Dean’s stomach; his mouth wet and ruined, eyes dark and full of amusement. Dean touched the side of his mouth, sliding his fingers against the damp heat of faint bruising there and shivered. _Jesus Christ_.

The lights flickered and went out, everything going pitch black for a moment, until lightening tore through the sky, bright enough to filter through the cracks in the curtains and illuminate Thor in pure light. The storm must have been right over head. 

Dean laughed. “Okay, you really are the god of lightning, I give.” 

Thor laughed, scraping his facial hair across his stomach in a long, almost-ticklish drag that had Dean jolting up, knees trying to pull tight, years of tickle-fight instincts kicking in. Only Thor held him down with a sort of casual strength that it was caught somewhere between really cute and really hot. 

“I am glad of your understanding,” Thor joked, sucking a surprisingly delicate mark to the skin over his hip. 

Dean hooked a leg over one huge shoulder and pulled him in tighter as lightning lit up the room for another second. Almost instantly the thunder boomed, loud enough for him to feel it in his stomach. It was almost impossible to find where the lube and condom had fallen in the dark, bumping hands and elbows as Dean looked for it and Thor seemed intent on smothering him with his ridiculous shoulder span. 

They managed to find both, lost in the thin folds of the sheet, using the seconds of lighting to look for the shine of foil. In petty retaliation, Dean sucked a lurid mark into Thor’s shoulder, teasing the skin with just the edges of his teeth. Thor rutted against his hip, thick and wet and Dean actually wanted to dig his nails into his back like some hussy. Dean was no hussy. 

He groaned into Thor’s mouth, tugging at the sheets as Thor sat back on his heels, casually lifting him with one hand so he could probe at his ass with slick fingers. Dean wrapped one arm around Thor’s neck to hold himself up, thighs spread over Thor’s lap. 

“Yes. Just like that,” Dean hissed. He hadn’t done this in a long time, but _go big or go home_ , and he wanted to ride Thor like a carnival. 

The stretch was almost too much, a sharp bite of pleasure tempered with a breathless kind of not-pain. Like stretching out a tight muscle, it hurt, but in a good way. Thor’s fingers were not small, pushing deep inside of him and Dean groaned, pressing his face hard against Thor’s shoulder and moaning wordless curses. 

Thor was _ruthless_ , pressing until his fingers were so deep that Dean swore he could feel them each time he breathed. Pressing deeper, Thor rubbing his dry thumb around the stretched rim, pulling Dean apart. 

He was rocking back against two fingers and cursing a blue streak; pretty sure it didn’t make much sense, just sounds all strung together and pressed against Thor’s skin. “Okay, enough, just do it.” Dean hissed, rocking his hips in shallow half circles that made the fingers stuffed inside of him rub in the most delicious ways. He didn’t even care if he was ready, just wanted more more more and wanted it right now. 

Dean never had more trouble with a jacket-pack before, fingers feeling too thick and clumsy to rip the foil. If he could just freaking breathe for a moment, pull the scattered bits of his control back together. Calm under assault from witches, three fingers in his ass and he was a wreck. 

There was a moment where he wondered if the rubber was even going to fit. Thor groaning against his temple, rocking them both with the little half-aborted thrusts. Dean always thought he was a magnum kind of dude, but this was actually ridiculous. 

Normally Dean could do this, one handed, in the dark, because he just had that much practice and he got it rolled down without too much trouble after a few embarrassing slides of his fingers and bit of almost adolescent-level fumbling. Thor rumbled in approval, a low pleased sound that reminded him all too much of a V6 turning over. It was probably wrong that it made him just a little desperate. 

“Hey!” Dean laughed when he was tossed on his back, Thor sliding between his thighs. Dean wrapped his legs around his trim waist; there wasn’t any fat on this guy anywhere. Nothing that wasn’t completely solid. A fact Dean was grateful for, Thor braced above him, flexing his biceps to keep Dean curled, threatening to bend him in half, and back lit by a flash of light, his hard-on pressing against Dean’s ass, just as thick and solid as the rest of him. 

He wasn’t even given any warning, just hands holding his hips steady as Thor filled him in one long push. Dean did claw at his shoulders then, unable to breathe for a long moment because he was stuffed so full he was going to burst. Only he didn’t, taking a sharp breath between his teeth and trying to relax enough that it didn’t feel like he was going to go out of his mind.

“Oh god,” Dean huffed, Thor’s fingers ten points of pressure on his hips. 

Whatever Thor replied with was lost in the crash of thunder, just the low thrum of it pressed against Dean’s skin. He was quite bendy for being so big. Dean would hate him on principle if he wasn’t currently fucking him. It was impossible to be that perfect, not without a healthy dose of magic, or aliens—aliens were always an option. 

Everything sort of scattered when Thor pulled back, rocking on his heels so he could slide out a little, the drag of friction lighting him up from the inside. Dean’s cock jerked, his balls tightening in response to the surge of ‘holyfuck _yes_ ’. 

He couldn’t even complain about the fact Thor had approached this whole thing with a sort of imperious attitude because the fucker totally earned it. Dean twisted his hands in Thor’s hair and pulled him in for another filthy kiss, sliding his wet lips all over Thor’s mouth without too much finesse. He just wanted to feel him breathing. 

“Come on, go for the gold,” Dean urged, digging his heels into Thor’s back in encouragement. 

Not that Thor really needed it. 

Dean whined, biting at Thor’s lips to do something about the way that Thor pushed into him he was going to peel right out of his own skin, a thick drag out and a rough shove in. 

It was too much and it was perfect. Dean groaned and rode Thor hard, using his legs to pull himself into every thrust. Periodically the lightning would light them up. Thor’s shoulders were thick and warm, flushed with exertion, the faintest flush was just visible spilling down his chest, as caught in fractions of an image. 

Thor was mouthing words against his lips. Dean had no idea what they were, just that he licked at them and they danced like static on his tongue. Even with the awkward angle, each jerk of Thor’s hips was enough to have them both rocking, jolting together deliciously. 

Then he got a hand on his own cock, the back of his hand hitting Thor’s stomach and feeling the flex and pull of muscle while he jerked himself off and everything was better than perfect. Electricity buzzing under his skin like he was going to fly apart kind of good.

Thor’s touches were static, strong to the point of feeling like a hot fresh bruise and Dean gasped and moaned, unable to stop himself from jerking off fast and hard.

Given that he had already come once, in theory it should take him longer. Dean had his pride to think about. His reputation. He also had a hand on his dick and his tongue in Thor’s mouth, and it was getting really hard to hold on to that fine edge. 

Of course Thor didn’t seem to have the same issue, he kept up the same pace, just on the right side of too much, riding Dean’s ass like he stole it. 

He just couldn’t hold up. Not against that kind of thing, it was bigger than any man. 

The second orgasm didn’t hit as hard, didn’t make the moment between one heart beat and the next stretch out impossibly, like he was going to be the first man ever to die of an orgasm. Instead it just kept building and building until Dean thought he was going to claw right out of his skin. The break was incredible curling his thighs in tighter as he came messily all over his stomach. 

Thor groaned above him, mouth falling open and bright blue eyes shut as he thrust hard and fast, forcing Dean to draw it out. He swore for a moment he couldn’t feel his toes. 

It should be impossible to come that hard. 

Dean still felt high and a little floppy, too strung out to really focus, as Thor groaned something low and obscene sounding. He came, head tossed back and back-lit by the lighting. Shuddering hard and digging his hands into Dean’s ass. 

They were breathing hard. Dean was not moving for anything less than the end of the world and Thor seemed to be of similar mind, curled on his side. Outside the storm continued to crash, the wind howling almost threateningly. 

“ _Chirsto,_ ” Dean breathed in stunned disbelief. Sex was never that good. That was like porn sex. Physically impossible for normal people. 

If Thor found this odd at all he didn’t say anything. “Well met,” Thor breathed, rumbling low and amused and Dean sort of wanted to crawl all over him again. Only that would require moving, and just no.

Instead they lay there listening to the crash of the storm outside. The wind howled, whistling through a crack somewhere. Dean was sticky and covered in his own come, but content enough to lie in his own filth for a bit. It was only months of being harassed by a string of girlfriends that kept him from dropping off to sleep immediately. 

Before he could drop off completely, Dean pulled himself out of the bed, a nest of kicked up sheets and the empty condom wrapped stuck to the back of his thigh. Dean snorted and flicked it at the floor. He wandered into the bathroom, mostly unbothered by the dark. 

Couldn’t sleep if the windows weren’t salted and most of his one night stands usually drew the line at that point. Apparently it was only a step away from donning a tinfoil hat and running naked down the street. What did they know anyways?

When he came back from cleaning himself Thor was sitting up, still lounging naked though, as if the ratty motel bedspread were a regal throne. The power hadn’t come back, and this far out of town no one was probably going to get to it until tomorrow at the earliest. 

“What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?” Dean asked, throwing himself on the bed. If Thor wasn’t going to be weird about being naked then Dean could embrace his inner nudist as well. Thor was obviously not from around here, even if Dean didn’t really believe he was the god of thunder. 

Thor laughed. “I am searching. I tracked my brother to this place, this night, but I seem to have been distracted. You seemed familiar to me.” Dean leered at him even if he couldn’t see it. 

Well, brothers could be little shits. “You looking for him? Did he run away?” 

“Nay, we often take turns, chasing and being chased across the realms. He is irritatingly much better than me at hiding.” 

“Which is a really weird way of saying you’re playing tag?” 

\--

The first time Dean met Thor, he was young, too young to remember how old exactly; time blurred together differently when you were a kid. Somewhere between 8 and 12 probably-- Sammy was still smaller than him. 

“Shit,” Dean swore, he tried to say it the same way that Dad sometimes did when he couldn’t stop himself, and the other hunters at the roadhouse did when they forgot there were kids around-- but it still came out too small to sound like a proper curse. “ _Shit_ ,” Dead tried again, trying to make it sound right. 

Taking care of Sammy was his one job. He took it seriously. Mostly because Sammy was a contrary child and a trouble-magnet. Dean was actually tempted to look for curse bags sewn into his clothes some days. 

It was hot and wet, so each inhale was sticky and wet like he was trying to breath underwater. This was the first time he remembered being in Florida but with any luck it would be the last. This was an awful place. Crocodiles were cool in theory, huge teeth, and scary-cool a lot like dinosaurs, but not worth how hot it was here. Besides, he had a nightmare last night that Sammy had actually been bitten by one and there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how he pried at its jaws it wouldn’t let go.

It was just a stupid childish dream; but when he came back with popsicles (the air-conditioning in their small motel room wasn’t nearly enough to deal with quite so much heat) and Sammy wasn’t there, he freaked out. 

Sammy also wasn’t anywhere around the motel parking lot. He wasn’t around behind were the grass was tall and crocodiles could easily hide. Dean ventured as far as he could into them, keeping an eye out for danger, until he was sure that Sammy wasn’t just looking for frogs or bugs back here. The grass was wet from the thunderstorm last night and quickly soaked his trainers and the bottoms of his jeans. He was way too cool for shorts but suddenly wished he would have just given up his pride and put them on.

Where else could he have gone? There weren’t many places you could walk from here. The stretch of highway was pretty sparse, a whole lot of nothing one way and a little bit of something the other way. A kid walking down it alone would have to stand out. 

Dean began walking towards the small cluster of buildings that made up the rest of this blip on the road. There was a diner, a bar, a garage, and a bunch of small stores. He didn’t notice Sammy when he was buying the popsicles, but Sammy was small. He could have missed him. 

Maybe he went into the bar? Looking for their Dad, but no, Sammy was smart, smartest kid around—he had to know that Dad wouldn’t be back until late. 

He wasn’t quite running, watching the patchy growth on the side of the roads. Dad was never _ever_ going to leave him in charge again if he lost Sammy. 

Dean didn’t notice until he ran right into someone, bouncing off a solid form. It was like running full tilt into a tree for all the give. He managed to stay on his feet, automatically falling back into a fighting stance until he balance was more centered. 

It was a man. Bigger even than Dad, bigger than any of the other hunters at the roadhouse. Dean wasn’t even aware they made men this big. He was like the Captain America comic books that Sammy loved, but real. 

Later when he embellished the story, he would leave out the part where he actually gaped for a moment, struck completely to the spot. He knew the monster under the bed was real, but the good guys were a bunch of gruff adults, no one ever actually shone golden. Heroes didn’t work that way. Look how it ended for Captain America. 

“My, but you are but a tiny creature,” the man rumbled, voice like the distant thunder on the prairie. 

That at least was enough to get Dean moving. “Watch where you’re going,” he snapped, he wasn’t small. 

That got him a quirk of a smile. “And who are you to tell me what to do?” 

“I’m a _Winchester_ ,” Dean said, standing as tall as he could and ignoring the fact that he came up to the man’s elbow. He could shoot cans off a fence across the yard, he wasn’t scared of anything. Except maybe crocodiles. 

Somehow he got the feeling crocodiles were afraid of this stranger. Something in his stomach told him he was in the presence of something dangerous. Of course that only made him want to poke it and see what happened. Winchester men never showed fear when they could mock it. 

“Am I supposed to be afraid?” He cocked an eyebrow, arms like watermelons crossed over his chest. He wore a sleeveless shirt and bright patterned shorts and Dean wasn’t going to be intimidated by some beach bum with his leg hair blowing freely in the wind. No matter how improbably large he was. 

“You should be,” Dean replied, that uneasy feeling in his stomach twisting. “Look, I don’t have time for this. I need to find my brother.” 

“Perhaps then, this is fate,” Tall and Gold said. His voice was thick some sort of accent that Dean couldn’t place, smudging all the consonants together. It wasn’t American-- that much he was sure of. All the people here in Florida had a thick, syrupy accent. “I too am looking for my brother.” 

“What does he look like?” He could forgive the small comment, for now. 

“He changes depending on his will.” 

“Well that’s not really helpful is it?” Dean sighed. He didn’t have time for this. 

“Usually he appears with dark hair, pale skin.” 

“Is he as tall as you?” Dean asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, I haven’t seen him around.” Dean moved to go around him. “I’ll tell him you’re looking for him if I see him.” This was funny for some reason if the way he chuckled meant anything. 

“A most generous offer.” 

“Have you seen a kid? He’s about this tall, brown hair?” Dean indicated on his chest where Sammy liked to measure himself against Dean at least once a week and proclaim that he was going to grow taller than him, just to spite him. 

“Nay.” 

“Well, good luck.” Dean sighed, moving around the mountain of a man. 

“Best of luck.” 

Dean tried to put it out of his mind, focus instead on Sammy but couldn’t stop going over how he was going to tell him about this. ‘Seriously, Sammy, he couldn’t fit through doors! Also he talked really weird, like super freaky, also he looked a bit like He-Man. When we grow up, let’s never come back to Florida okay?’ 

It took him far too long to find Sammy, who was crouched on the far side of the parking lot near the store, mouth stained purple from the popsicle that was still melting in his hand; he was squatting on the sidewalk watching one of the tiny brightly coloured lizards that ran around everywhere.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled, trying to sound angry but more relieved than anything else. 

“What?” Sam replied, frowning at him. 

“You were supposed to wait in the room.” Dean snarled at him. Sam just gave him a wounded look. “What are you doing out here alone?” 

“I thought I saw Dad,” Sammy replied simply. “He was there in the parking lot, but he kept going further away. But it wasn’t him. Hey—I found five dollars.” 

Dean sort of wanted to shake him for being so stupid, or shake him because he wasn’t eaten by a crocodile. “Don’t leave by yourself.” 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“No,” Dean snapped. 

“Here, you can have the change. I got you a popsicle too.” Sammy held out a few dollar bills in his fingers, everything a little damp and purple. 

“Hold onto it.” Dean sighed. 

“We’ll share it,” Sammy declared, shoving the bills in his pocket. 

A man stepped out of the store, making the bells chime. Dean looked up on instinct in time to see a tall man step into the sunlight. His hair was dark black. 

“Hey mister,” Dean called. “I think your brother is looking for you.” 

He turned, not all surprised and gave Dean a sharp smile. “That he is.”


End file.
